Page 45 of The Ivory King

“Go find Pasil and Beiro,” V’alor interrupted, for that was a tale that need not be repeated within earshot of Lady Frostleaf.

“Right. Yep, off I go,” she said then took to wing.

I rose to my toes to kiss him on the mouth. “You own my heart and soul.”

“And you mine. Now, let us saddle our horses.” He caressed my cheek, just a brush of the back of his fingers, but it was enough for the moment. It would have to be, for we had a long trip to the capital where a nest of vipers now slithered through the halls of Avolire.

WE RODE LIKE DEMONS TRYING TO ESCAPE THE PITS OF THE UNDERWORLD.

The miles melted away. The horses and mules flagging were our only reasons to stop for a few hours. Sleep was fractured. We all were uneasy, distrustful of any common elf we met, for they, too, could be working for the Mossbells. It was a horrid few days.

Tempers were frayed, nerves short, and souls saddened. A dark blanket of slowly brewing anger began to overtake my initial feelings of dismay over the duplicity of the Mossbell family. Riding along for endless hours, my mind had time to churn up hundreds of childhood memories. Spending weeks with the twins riding, climbing trees, and shooting arrows into stuffed figures that we pretended were pirates or noble-hating rebels. Incredibly, it turned out that the noble haters were not hay filled dummies but the very friends I had shared secrets and honey cakes with. My hurt began to grow and change. Now I rode with a fire in my breast that, when given air, would engulf me.

Four grueling days after leaving the sisters of the steppes, our arrival at the outer edges of Celear was not one of fanfare. We crept into the city under the cover of night like criminals.

“The city still wears the wrapping of mourning,” Pasil mentioned as we passed small stands in the inner marketplace,the stalls emptied of goods for the night. The homes we passed glowed from within, the pubs we skirted stood with doors open and music flowing out, and the brothels saw slim men and women in open windows calling to us as we slithered down alleys filled with hungry cats.

I took note of the ebony buntings on the stalls and doors and hanging from the announcement boards. That was a good thing for us. That meant we had managed to arrive while King Raloven still lay in state, and it would not be much longer before the touch of death on his body would be apparent.

Merrilyn and Raewyn were silent, their gazes darting about the narrow streets. Neither had seen such a large city before. They were not prepared for the crush of elves packed tightly into small residences like salted skippers in one of Widow Poppy’s casseroles. I had always despised the skipper fish laid so carefully into a baking pan. They were vile little freshwater fish that felt furry when they touched my tongue. No amount of butter, lemon, or salt could hide the taste, but Umeris loved them.

And I, in my own way, loved my grandfather, just as he, in his fashion, loved me. If any harm had befallen him…

We moved stealthily through the city, leaving the barrows behind as we entered the wealthier part of Celear. Here the homes were more spacious, the streets wider, and the smells more pleasant. No refuse or waste sat in the gutters here. There were no gaping holes in the roads, no calls of whores, and no cries of despair in the cool night air. None of the young ones in this section of the capital were begging for coins or pawing through garbage piles like hungry mongrels.

“Such disparity,” Raewyn whispered as we skirted the city watch making its patrols. “This must end.”

“We shall see it does if we sit on the throne,” I vowed, taking her hand for a moment. She smiled feebly at me before Ireleased her fingers. Onward we moved, like shadows, following V’alor up and up, Castle Avolire sitting high above a now calm sea. The keep appeared to be as we’d left it. No outward signs of distress. The banners remained the ones of Melowynn. I did not know what to expect but given the Mossbell’s hunger for the throne, seeing the blue Mossbell moose would not have surprised me.

We stopped at the western gate, a smaller entry into the castle, and waited hunkered behind a cart of sleeping chickens as Pasil engaged one of the castle guards in conversation. Peering nervously around the hood covering my head at V’alor, I sent up a silent plea to Ihdos to watch over him. Pasil and the guard laughed and then stepped outside the gate to light a pipe to share. The guard took note of us, me in particular, but said nothing as we slipped into the western bailey. Pasil caught up, his sight darting to Beiro.

“The laundry is an easy entry,” Pasil whispered.

“And the guard?” I asked as we moved from shadow to shadow

“Is my cousin. He enjoys a good dwarven tobacco, and your grandmother was kind enough to give me some of hers,” Pasil replied as he glanced at Beiro, who nodded but said nothing in reply.

With that reassurance, we climbed into a window by the laundry. The room was dark now, the smell of lye soap strong in the air. Wooden tubs sat damp and dark, ready for the day’s wash to arrive in the arms of maids come morning. All seemed normal in Avolire and our plan to find Umeris and then confront the Mossbells was running smoothly. Something that Tezen pointed out as we crept along, avoiding guards making slow patrols or lingering in dark hallways to converse. There were moments, nervous ones, where the two members of our troupe wearing full plate made a sound that drew a sleepy lookfrom a guard or two. My heart sped up a dozen times as we hid behind corners or tapestries. I made a mental reminder to myself that the next time we were trying to be stealthy, removing heavy armor would be wise.

“It seems as if those who plotted against us are sleeping well,” she whispered before darting up a winding staircase that led to the sleeping quarters on the second level. We waited for a member of the king’s guard to move past us and disappear into a bedchamber. Whose we had no clue, but we used that gap to hurry to my grandfather’s suite. I opened the door and slid inside the massive room, the window open just enough to rustle the fine sheer draperies. My grandfather sat at a desk, a thick white candle illuminating his haggard face. V’alor’s armor creaked. Umeris looked up from his letter writing, his eyes going wide.

“Aelir,” he gasped, rising shakily to his feet, his silver hair falling over his shoulders to skim his slippered feet as he tossed his quill aside. “Seeing you brings me much joy,” he said, opening his arms for me. I moved to him as the door closed with a soft click. Hugging him was akin to embracing a newly planted willow sapling. He was slim and fragile. He held me close. It was the first time that I could recall us ever embracing. When he pulled back, he glanced over my shoulder. “And you have Lady Raewyn with you.”

“I am so happy to finally lay eyes upon you in person, Grand Advisor,” Raewyn replied with a low curtsy that looked regal despite her filthy armor and the dead bits of leaf in her hair. We all looked quite rough, nothing like the nobility that we were.

He smiled a genuine smile that quickly faded when reality resettled on his slim shoulders. “You were to return with only one betrothed, not several, Aelir. Why is it you cannot follow the simplest of societal norms?”

And there was the Umeris I knew. Ah well, the moment of affection and acceptance had been nice while it lasted.

“I am sure the grand cloisterer filled your ear with her thoughts, but she did bless us all, so what is done is done,” I answered, guiding him back to his chair. He looked ready to say more, but I overrode him. “Tell me of the Mossbells.”

His busy white eyebrows beetled as he eased himself back into his seat. V’alor and Pasil moved to either side of the door, Beiro to the window, and the ladies to a small chaise by the foot of the enormous bed. Tezen settled on a bolster pillow at the foot of the bed with a weary sigh.

“They are fools of the highest caliber. Those twins do not possess the common sense to lead a duck to water, but Lady Mossbell fights tooth and nail for them to lead Melowynn. Pah, such nonsense. But now that you have returned, we shall call the exalted cloisterer to us and see you and Lady Frostleaf wed.”

“Grandfather, the weddings will have to wait.” I kneeled beside him, careful of his problematic feet. “We have been beset with assassins on our journey to bring Raewyn back to her rightful place among the nobility.” His sight flew to Raewyn, real concern on his face, and then he looked at the others in his room. “We are fine. We fought them off, killing them all.”

“I am glad you dispatched them. Evil souls are those that kill for coin,” Umeris snapped angrily. If he were mad over random blades-for-hire, he was going to detonate like the fabled volcanos of centuries past that formed the Witherhorn range.

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